It was the same day.

Liu Shuhai and Luo Wenrao, two people with seemingly no connection whatsoever, had once subtly appeared at the same time and place, sharing an unexpected and tenuous link.

Luo Ren said, “When investigating crimes with identical methods, we often have a preconceived notion. We assume either it’s the same person committing crimes years apart, or there’s a succession relationship, like a father dies and a son continues the crimes. In short, we believe there’s a close relationship between the perpetrators.”

Indeed, this was why Li Tan had rebuked Cen Chunjiao for providing false information. He was convinced that Luo Wenrao was the killer and thought Liu Shuhai, who appeared out of nowhere, was completely fictional. What about Hong Yi? When Hong Yi received the phone call, she also blurted out that it was fake. In Hong Yi’s mind, had she also identified a culprit? Who was it?

“But what if we encounter cases where there’s no direct connection between the criminals? What would be the reason?”

Mu Dai blurted out: “Possession?”

After saying this, she felt a chill run down her arms. She quickly rubbed them while looking around apprehensively.

Luo Ren couldn’t help but smile: “I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“Shh!”

Mu Dai hastily interrupted him: “Even if you don’t believe, you should show respect, especially don’t call them ‘stuff.’ They won’t like that.”

Sitting on the stool, she pressed her palms together, and without moving her body, rotated her hands from left to right, muttering, “Sorry, sorry.”

Luo Ren stared at her.

Mu Dai smiled sheepishly: “My aunt Hong taught me this. She said, especially when going to remote places, if you can’t find a toilet and need to relieve yourself somewhere, you should do this first and say a few words like ‘excuse me for disturbing you.'”

“You believe in this?”

“I don’t really…”

She stopped abruptly mid-sentence, her eyes darting around again, then said to Luo Ren: “Just pretend you do. It’s like saying ‘Happy New Year’ during the Spring Festival, or saying ‘Have a safe journey’ instead of ‘Have a smooth journey’ when seeing someone off. It’s just custom.”

Luo Ren said, “I don’t believe in these…”

He glanced at Mu Dai: “I don’t believe in these… beings. Rather, I think it’s like a virus that causes mental instability and cruel behavior. Liu Shuhai was a carrier, and my uncle was infected.”

His gaze fell on the row of question marks under the Luoma Lake case: “I just don’t know… which one was the source of infection?”

Mu Dai hesitated, speaking somewhat haltingly: “Last time, in Chongqing, Wan Fenghuo had someone deliver files to my room. Besides the Luoma Lake case, my aunt Hong was also inquiring about another person.”

Luo Ren’s heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively leaned forward: “Who?”

She wasn’t sure if this counted as betraying Hong Yi—it shouldn’t, probably not.

Mu Dai bit her lip: “There was a man named Zhang Guanghua, also from Luoma Lake, who lived in the same building as Li Yaqing’s family. At that time, he was about thirty years old, married, with a three-year-old son.”

“Wan Fenghuo’s notes mentioned that Zhang Guanghua was last seen at the Taiyuan Bus Station.”

She gestured toward Liu Shuhai’s entry: “In 2007, Liu Shuhai had a car accident in Datong, Shanxi. Taiyuan is also in Shanxi, right? Is it possible that Zhang Guanghua went from Taiyuan to Datong…”

Appearing in the same province—was it just a coincidence? Perhaps she was overthinking, especially since nearly fifteen years had passed between the first and second cases.

But for Luo Ren, this was no less than another breakthrough and direction.

Zhang Guanghua?

Back at the bar, Mu Dai felt awkward and guilty toward Hong Yi. She walked sideways, trying to make herself as thin as paper, hoping to return to her room unnoticed.

To her dismay, Hong Yi spotted her immediately and asked with a smile: “Where has Mu Dai been all afternoon?”

As Mu Dai stammered, Cao Yanhua suddenly appeared from behind, stating solemnly: “Sister Mu Dai was reading a book at the coffee shop across the river this afternoon. I saw her and walked past her twice, but she didn’t notice me.”

Hong Yi teased Mu Dai: “Sometimes when Mu Dai reads, she’s like a little dummy, unmoved even by thunder.”

Cao Yanhua winked at Mu Dai. After Hong Yi left, he sought credit from Mu Dai: “See, isn’t it good to have a disciple? I defend my master without principles or conscience.”

Mu Dai rolled her eyes at him. Just as she was about to go upstairs, Cao Yanhua came over mysteriously: “Sister Mu Dai, I did see you.”

He thought he was quite reasonable: “For someone like me, keeping track of police station locations is an occupational instinct. I was just casually walking by when I happened to see…”

Suspecting nothing good would come of this, Mu Dai gave him a sideways glance and continued on her way. Cao Yanhua persisted: “When I happened to see you sitting with a handsome man in black in a very romantic little noodle shop…”

Was it romantic? It was just an ordinary noodle shop, with the most expensive bowl costing eighteen yuan, and free additions of scallions, garlic, and chili sauce.

“You were chatting very happily, seeming to play a game, sticking notes on the table…”

Hah, playing a game. She wanted to spray a mouthful of orange juice and send Cao Yanhua flying back to the Liberation Monument.

“And then Sister Mu Dai, you were acting cute…”

Acting cute?

Seeing Mu Dai’s confusion, Cao Yanhua quickly pressed his palms together, twisting his waist from left to right—quite a feat for someone with such a thick waist.

“Sister Mu Dai, I absolutely won’t tell anyone. Although I only saw that man’s back, I believe he must have great character and appearance…”

“Yi Wansan!”

Before Cao Yanhua could finish, Mu Dai’s sharp call startled him.

Yi Wansan, who had been slouching at the bar counter, also trembled and abruptly raised his head.

“Do you have a spinal disorder? Who told you to slouch? I pay you for eight hours of work, not for slouching!”

Yi Wansan quickly stood straight, his dangling hands almost crushing the small white cloth he was using to wipe his glasses.

She had snapped. She had snapped.

It was the first time Cao Yanhua had seen Mu Dai reprimand Yi Wansan. He immediately fell silent. After Mu Dai went upstairs, he consoled Yi Wansan: “Don’t take it to heart. Women, you know, their moods are changeable.”

Yi Wansan continued to squeeze the small white cloth: Looks like I’ll be logging into Tianya tonight.

By late night, news from Luoma Lake began to arrive. Wan Fenghuo’s local colleagues were not only competent but also had qualities of paparazzi, providing many details that were considered gossip at the time.

Zhang Guanghua’s wife had remarried and taken their son with her in the second year after his disappearance. Now in her fifties, she often complained to neighbors: “In life, you shouldn’t choose a handsome man. What use is it if he looks like a celebrity? He can’t earn a celebrity’s money, yet his heart is just as fickle.”

Reportedly, Zhang Guanghua was a womanizer who hadn’t restrained himself even after marriage. He had ambiguous relationships with several women, and his wife had broken many pots and bowls over this. But once, things got serious. It was said that a woman became pregnant, and her parents, who might have had some connections, pressured his workplace leaders. The leaders were quite irritated but didn’t want to make a fuss. A transfer order was issued, sending him to Lingbao City in Henan Province for half a year, ostensibly for exchange and learning, but actually to make him behave, calm down, and reflect.

Lingbao City in Henan Province might sound unfamiliar now, but it was quite renowned in the past, simply because it was near Hangu Pass.

Hangu Pass had many famous legends, the most widely known being about Laozi riding a blue ox through the pass during the Spring and Autumn Period. It was said that the pass official Yin Xi was good at observing celestial phenomena and vaguely saw a purple aura floating from the east. He deduced that a sage must be passing through and hurried to the gate to welcome him. Sure enough, he saw Laozi slowly approaching on a blue ox.

It would have been a great loss to the royal court and the common people if such a great man had simply retreated into seclusion. Yin Xi pleaded for many days, and Laozi finally left behind a book: the “Tao Te Ching.”

This place, rich in historical and cultural heritage, was where Zhang Guanghua was “exiled.”

Luo Ren keenly noticed the timing: Soon after Zhang Guanghua returned to Luoma Lake, the murder of Li Yaqing’s family occurred.

Someone described Zhang Guanghua as idle and unambitious, relying on his good looks and glib tongue to fool many girls into thinking he had a unique personality.

Luo Ren tentatively asked: “Would he dare to kill someone?”

The person laughed heartily: “Kill a person? No. But he did kill a dog.”

Killed a dog?

Luo Ren felt an additional layer of disgust toward Zhang Guanghua. All creatures have life—what right did he have to kill wantonly?

He casually asked: “Do you know who the women related to Zhang Guanghua were?”

Some people are naturally base, not sharing their troubles with their bedfellows but endlessly chattering to fleeting romances. Although approaching these women now would inevitably be awkward, it might be worth spending extra money to extract more information.

That’s the peculiarity of information—it doesn’t matter how small or large. You never know which obscure bit might help you.

The person hesitated: “I could, but they’re all middle-aged women now. It seems inappropriate to dig up such old romantic scandals. Also… no one ever knew who that supposedly pregnant woman was.”

Luo Ren’s interest was piqued: “Such a gossipy matter, and no one knows the inside story?”

“It was suppressed. In those days, face and reputation were quite important. They might have paid hush money. We can’t just go around asking everyone on the street.”

“What about the leader at that time?”

“Your luck is bad. That leader died of cancer two years ago. He’s gone, not coming back.”

The man spoke rather flippantly. Luo Ren smiled bitterly, thinking to end the call, when the man added: “However…”

Luo Ren patiently waited for his next words, but the man changed his mind: “Forget it. It’s not right to speak ill of the dead.”

Luo Ren’s eyes sharpened: “Dead person? Which dead person?”

The man hesitated. Luo Ren was direct: “Give me your account number. I’ll transfer the money directly. It’s private earnings, it won’t go through your ‘company.’ Just between us. Take some of this money to burn incense for the dead and offer some auspicious paper. The dead won’t do anything to you.”

“It’s just hearsay, just something I heard. It might not be true.”

“I’ll pay for hearsay, too.”

“Privately, some people guessed that the pregnant woman was Li Yaqing, because their families lived in the same building. They used to have a good relationship, often greeting each other. Li Yaqing would occasionally chat with Zhang Guanghua. But at some point, they stopped meeting face to face. It was said that Zhang Guanghua would deliberately avoid the Li family if he saw them on the street.”

“Also, Li Yaqing’s parents were professors. At that time, professors had relatively high social status and could connect with police and government agencies… Of course, this is just what I heard. It might not be true…”